


we'll take it slow (and grow as we go)

by ifthebookdoesntsell



Category: The Prom (2020), The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, First Kiss, I love them so much, greenelan - Freeform, they're baby your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28631751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifthebookdoesntsell/pseuds/ifthebookdoesntsell
Summary: Alyssa’s foot taps under the table as the clock above the whiteboard seems to tick by slower than ever.It’s almost lunch time, and she’s supposed to meet Emma in the band closet for the period.For the past few months, they’ve been meeting up out of sight of their peers, sneaking quick touches-- an intertwining of their hands in the hall for barely a second, a brush of the shoulder-- when nobody was looking, texting late into the night, and lately, she’s felt a shift.(Or, the one where they realize their feelings and act on it; the one with the first kiss.)
Relationships: Alyssa Greene/Emma Nolan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 81





	we'll take it slow (and grow as we go)

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all. i hope everybody is staying as safe as they possibly can right now. i know the world is really crazy, so i hope this provides a brief respite from all of that. the idea for this came yesterday, and i had to write it right away because i'm just so soft for them. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy. 
> 
> (title from ben platt's grow as we go.)

Alyssa’s foot taps under the table as the clock above the whiteboard seems to tick by slower than ever. 

It’s almost lunch time, and she’s supposed to meet Emma in the band closet for the period. 

For the past few months, they’ve been meeting up out of sight of their peers, sneaking quick touches-- an intertwining of their hands in the hall for barely a second, a brush of the shoulder-- when nobody was looking, texting late into the night, and lately, she’s felt a shift. 

Her heart picks up its pace when Emma is close. It’s even the little things, like how she can’t help but smile when Emma sends a picture of a raccoon and captions it _trash panda,_ like how she feels really _listened to_ when she starts to ramble about whatever is on her mind. She feels seen, feels like she’s important, like she matters, in a way that she never thought she did to anybody before. 

Time seems to drag even more as the substitute history teacher reads what the class’ assigned homework is off of the printed-out lesson plan. He drones on, and Alyssa finds her mind drifting back to the other girl, to the softness of her hazel eyes, to the way her lips curl into a smile despite herself when Alyssa makes a bad joke. She finds herself imagining what kind of sweets Emma brought today-- the blonde has started providing a dessert for them to split ever since Alyssa told her she’d never had a real, big slice of apple pie; Emma had been horrified at the admittance-- she can’t help but allow these little details of Emma to occupy her thoughts. 

She drums her fingers on the table, breathless as the second hand finally rounds into the last minute and the bell rings. 

Alyssa has her things and is ready to go the moment the substitute announces that they’re dismissed, rushing out before anybody can follow her in the direction of the band closet. She slows down once she’s rounded the corner, eyes searching for any hint of Emma and smiling when she sees the red door of her destination is just slightly cracked open. 

Her gaze scans the hallway to make sure there’s nobody before she reaches for the handle, slips in, and shuts the door behind her. 

“Hi,” Emma laughs, looking up from where she’s sat, strumming her guitar on the floor. “In a rush?” 

“Shut up,” Alyssa replies, though there’s no bite to it, especially considering she did bolt here the minute she was let out of class. 

Emma’s eyes glimmer with humor as she watches the corners of Alyssa’s mouth turn up into a smile. The brunette’s shoulders slump in relaxation; she finds that she has to hold herself up much more when she isn’t alone with just Emma. Gently, she swings her bag off her back, leaning against the wall and sliding down until she’s sat on the floor too, at eye level with Emma. 

“How’s the day been so far?” the blonde asks, fingers still picking at the guitar, playing some melody that Alyssa doesn’t know. 

Alyssa shrugs. “Y'know, nothing too big to complain about. I had a sub for history, which was pretty boring considering Mr. Donaldson uses the same substitute lesson every time he’s out, but other than that, it was alright.” She looks kindly over at Emma, already knowing some of the answer when she asks, “How’s yours been?”

“Nick and Kevin wouldn’t leave me alone during P.E.,” the blonde admits. “And then it was all downhill from there, since I couldn’t get to my locker until after the period started so I was late to biology.” 

Alyssa fumes as soon as Emma mentions the two boys. “Do you want me to talk to them?” The tips of her ears turn red. “I could tell Principal Hawkins, or I could talk to them directly--”

Emma’s eyes widen. “No!” She switches chords, her fingers sliding over the frets with ease, transfixing Alyssa. “That’ll just make it worse.”

“But--” Alyssa starts.

“Come sit next to me, would you?” Emma interrupts, crow’s feet crinkling by her eyes as she gestures with her head to the empty spot next to her. “Eat your stupid salad and then you can have some of the cookies my nan made.” 

Alyssa eyes the blonde’s backpack as she scoots over to her. “What kind of cookies?” 

“Oatmeal chocolate chip,” Emma answers smugly, lighting up when Alyssa can’t contain her smile. 

“You remembered they’re my favorite?” 

The girl’s glasses slip down her nose as she nods in reply, beginning to play the riff once more. “Of course.” 

Alyssa fights the urge to blush; Emma cared enough to listen; Emma heard what she liked; she remembered-- 

She’s broken out of her thoughts when the girl next to her starts to sing. It’s a simple tune, the sort that makes Alyssa feel safe in herself, in quietly existing for at least just one moment. 

Emma breathes the words as if she knows what they mean, as if she has somebody in mind, though Alyssa isn’t sure who. She ignores the pang of jealousy that hits deeper than she’d like to admit. Singing seems as easy as just living for Emma; her voice tells the story of a lover who longs to hold the one who’s theirs, who wishes for them to know that they are there to listen, to ease the troubles that life brings, to help in any way that is necessary to change what needs to be changed, to do what needs to be done. 

She listens further, finding peace in the comfort that is Emma’s voice, in the story of two people learning what it is to let go of their hearts, to show themselves for the very first time, to grab hands and blindly search around in the darkness but stay clasped together so as not to get lost. 

Alyssa understands that feeling; the unknown frightens her, and the only thing more terrifying than it is the thought of dragging somebody along with her into it, knowing that they’re looking to her for some kind of answer, some kind of sureness, and that she won’t have any. Absently, she shifts closer to Emma, salad forgotten beside her. She breathes in the girl’s warm scent, studies the way she concentrates as she bars her fingers across another fret, presses her lips together as she shifts up. 

Emma’s tone is soft, sweet, the kind that Alyssa finds she wouldn’t mind sinking into, even drowning in. It has the qualities of a beautiful day: a brightness, a clarity, a tenderness. There’s a heat to it, like warm hot chocolate during a winter’s day, like blankets and pillows at early morning sunrise. 

Emma’s voice sounds like home. The thought strikes Alyssa faster than she can shove it back into her head, faster than she’s able to tell it to be quiet. Now that it’s been opened, it insists on repeating, on finding every way that Alyssa defines home and showing her just how Emma has guided her there.

She’s felt this building for months, known deep down that she isn’t just eating with Emma because she doesn’t like anybody else that goes to James Madison High School. She’s tried to push down whatever she’s been feeling for longer than that, probably since she saw Emma play at that school talent show, tried to tell herself that it was just simply curiosity, that it’ll pass.

But then, Emma smiles at her, sings, simply _exists,_ and she knows that isn’t true. Increasingly, Alyssa has found herself defining who she is by the way Emma sees her, not the way Shelby or Kaylee make fun of her-- though they always tell her that it’s all in good fun-- or the way the varsity boys eye her as if she’s some prize to be won just because she hasn’t accepted any of their date proposals. 

Alyssa finds that she’s beautiful because Emma thinks she is, finds that she always feels better about herself when she’s next to the girl, finds that all Emma has to do is look at her, nod at her encouragingly, and suddenly, she’s _brave;_ suddenly, she’s so many things that she never thought she could be. 

Emma is looking at her, now, clearly trying to read her. Alyssa flushes under her gaze, heart beating out of control. This tends to happen, especially lately, when Emma studies her. Hazel eyes seem to hold a wisdom, an understanding, that Alyssa can’t shy away from; they’re ever-changing, and even through the thick lenses of the other girl’s glasses, Alyssa feels so unbearably and relievingly _seen_ that it almost hurts. 

Suddenly, it’s made clear to her that Emma isn’t singing about people she doesn’t know, isn’t spinning a story from scratch. She’s singing to her. 

It makes the breath leave her lungs. 

Emma tells her that she doesn’t have to leave to grow, that she hopes that Alyssa won’t push her away. She tells her that whatever she’s feeling inside, they can look at it together. 

Alyssa can hear her blood roaring in her ears, feels her fingers tingle at their very tips as she meets Emma’s eyes, tells her she understands without saying a single word. 

She watches as the other girl’s concentration breaks, sees the way her fingers fumble over the strings as she too gets lost in the moment between them. Simultaneously, they seem to drown in each other’s gazes, so many unspoken truths laid out between them in a comprehensive way for the first time. 

Emma swings her guitar to the side, turning to face Alyssa properly. 

It’s utterly silent; even the sound of the cafeteria just a hallway away seems to have dissipated. 

They’re so close to each other, now, though neither knows how that happened. They’d started with a comfortable space between them. It happens this way often; there’s a magnetism. 

Alyssa tries not to smile at the thought. It all feels like so much knowing that Emma was singing to her, realizing that her feelings that she’s been trying to beat down are actually the only thing keeping her from completely losing herself to the beast that is high school. 

Her heart skips rope inside her chest, trips on the third Cinderella rhyme as Emma’s eyes make her melt further into herself.

She can’t catch her breath. Her cheeks heat up. Her hands fidget; they long to reach out, to cross the mile-long half foot between them. 

“Alyssa—“ Emma breathes. 

And that’s what does it. 

Alyssa presses forward, placing a careful hand beside Emma’s thigh and bringing the other up to cup the girl’s neck as she turns her head slightly and brushes her nose against Emma’s. 

“Yes?” she asks, teasing slightly, though she’s blushing, can feel her throat growing dry, knows that she’s inches away from doing something she’ll never, ever, be able to take back. 

Emma is clearly speechless, though from the way her own hand has come up to touch the small of Alyssa’s back, she’s unopposed to this new step. 

Their breath mingles between them for another moment, noses nudging against the other’s cheek tentatively until finally, Alyssa closes the final distance, feels Emma gasp against her as she rises up higher on her knees for leverage and seals their lips together. 

Alyssa feels a shock rush through her the second she can properly comprehend exactly what’s happening. Her entire body burns in the best way as Emma kisses her back, tips her head so that she can return the gesture properly. She squeezes her eyes shut, praying this isn’t a dream as she feels a hand thread through her dark hair and pull her down so they’re even closer. 

For a moment, they stay like that, taking each other in, trading breath like secrets, saying every word they cannot speak aloud until there’s no more oxygen. 

Alyssa pulls back first, filling her lungs with air as Emma stares up at her in awe. 

“Wow,” the girl mumbles. _“Wow.”_

Alyssa bites her lip around a smile. “Yeah.” She knows her blush is still ever-present and has probably spread down her neck. She clears her throat. “I think I’ve wanted to do that for awhile.” 

Emma looks at her with wide eyes. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you to.” 

“Really?” Her breath hitches.

“Really,” Emma confirms. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Alyssa nudges her gently. “Well, then I guess we should be glad that I figured it out.” 

“Definitely,” Emma replies without missing a beat. 

There’s several seconds of silence where they just smile at each other. This moment feels monumental, feels like one they’ll remember far longer than any other to happen within the walls of their high school. It feels life affirming, changing, feels like the sort of thing all previous years, all previous mistakes and triumphs and realizations, has led to. 

“Can I kiss you again?” Alyssa asks it before she can think of all the reasons why she shouldn’t. 

Emma laughs, hearty, surprised, and happy. “I think I would really like that.” 

Alyssa grins, pleased. “Okay. I’m going to, then.” 

A smile plays on cherry-chapstick-flavored lips. “Okay.” 

Alyssa leans forward on her knees once more, both hands cupping Emma’s face this time as she nuzzles close. “And then after this, we can have those cookies.” 

Emma nods dumbly. “I think I would really like that, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> so. what did you think? if you enjoyed, consider dropping me a comment/kudo below. it would make me smile. 
> 
> the song emma's singing (as you've probably guessed by the title) is grow as we go. i think it fits them perfectly and honestly the first time i heard it all i could think about was how perfect that kinda love is. if you haven't taken a listen, i highly recommend. 
> 
> as always, i'm @ifthebookdoesntsell on tumblr. my askbox is always open for whatever you've got on your mind. 
> 
> be safe x


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